


Desperate Times

by MarshmarrowSans



Series: Tumblr Requests [10]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Brief monster biology lesson, Demisexual Sans, Dom/sub, Ecto-Penis (Undertale), Established Relationship, F/M, Face-Fucking, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Male Masturbation, Monster Heat, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Sans cannot shut up about how much he loves you, Sans has phone sex...... with ur voicemail message....., Sans is in heat and ready for sum FUK, Sub Sans, There is a long mushy monologue at the beginning about how much Sans loves u, WAYYY more fluff than I thought there would be, caught masturbating, dom reader, that's how horny he is, what a fucking nerrrrrd lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-05-02 18:21:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14550588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarshmarrowSans/pseuds/MarshmarrowSans
Summary: Sans is in heat.  You're in a meeting at work.  Looks like he'll just have to take advantage of what little traces of you he can find in the immediate environment to take the edge off until you get home...  which doesn't take as long as he thought it was going to take.What a mess.





	1. Minorly Fuck't (By Himself)

**Author's Note:**

> my midterm was delayed a few days so i'm back to my usual bullshit to celebrate!! Here's another several-months-old request :)
> 
> felierni said to marshmarrowsans:  
> a thing with ut!sans unknowningly going through a soul cycle home alone, leading to him pleasuring himself and getting caught by his s/o getting home early unexpectedly and he's really really embarrassed about it?? embarrassment level 9000

One of the things Sans loved most about you was the way you totally enabled his lazy lifestyle.  Sure, he fully planned on pulling his weight around here sometime.  He was working, very slowly, at getting a degree, online.  He was trying out all sorts of new things, like writing and art and photography, to see if he had any natural talent to spring off of.  Of course, in the event that the two of you had kids together one day like you often talked about doing, he would take up the role of the stay-at-home dad in a soulbeat.

 

But for now, he lived an easy life, seeing you off to work each day of the work week with a kiss goodbye and proceeding to do…  whatever, for the next eight hours or so until you came home.

 

He never took this for granted.  He knew how many people—NORMAL people—would probably get angry with him for taking so long to start pulling his weight.  But you were always, always patient.  You wanted him to take his time.  To find his passions.  To think long and hard about what he was going to dedicate so much of his life to.  It was a great big world, and he had only relatively recently been thrown into it.  How depressing would it be for him to end up caught in some miserable job he hated just because he rushed into a career choice, just like so many other people?  You didn’t want that to happen to him.  This was his epilogue, and he deserved a gentle and happy one.  What kind of shitty story ends with ‘the world isn’t what he hoped it was, and he spent the rest of his life a little less than satisfied because of it?’

 

You would never, ever know just how far that was from the truth.

 

You were right about one thing—the world _wasn’t_ what he thought it was.  He was expecting violence, hatred, war, abuse.  And when political tensions escalated with the liberation of the monsters from the underground, he felt that his concerns were validated.  But Frisk was a wonderful ambassador, Toriel and Asgore were extremely effective as figures of royalty, despite their ruined marriage, and humans…  humans were better than he ever gave them credit for.  
  
Sure, some were just what he’d expected.  They wanted monsters dead, or at least gone.  Shoved back into the underground.  Out of this country, out of that country, out of every country.  
  
But most weren’t.  In a matter of weeks, there were laws being drafted, negotiations being made.  Some of the more progressive schools and workplaces began accepting monster applicants.  Charities, food banks, shelters.  It was his first taste of widescale human kindness and altruism.

 

He met you because he and Papyrus needed a place to live, and you were offering.  One double bedroom in a two-bedroom apartment (the other bedroom was yours, of course!).  Two bathrooms.  Kitchen, electricity, wi-fi, 1025 square feet.  That all sounded like a dream, but he’d been worried that just one little thing about it could still turn it into a shit pit: their new flatmate.

 

You.  He was worried about you.  Thinking about that still made him want to laugh.  He was intimidated by you when he met you.  You were taller than him, like everyone was, but it suddenly seemed threatening.  Your colorful eyes, your silky hair, your disarming smile, you fucking galaxy-design jacket you had on when he met you.  You had bad news written all over you!

 

…  By which he meant, he felt like his soul was tying itself in knots in his chest, and he’d never really felt that before, and he didn’t know what it was.  Stupid.  
  
It was his soul falling all over itself trying to say hello to its soulmate for the very first time, in a situation that was in no way conducive to such a momentous occasion.

 

That was how you met.  And how you got together was a whole other story, best told in a multi-chapter format that a particularly lazy and fickle writer wouldn’t be too keen on attempting.  But the important thing was that you were together now.  He’d found his soulmate, and he was with them.  He was living with them from the get-go, the lucky devil, which meant the two of you never had to go through the laborious moving-in-together song and dance!  The only moving you did was moving his bony ass over to your bedroom instead of Papyrus’, selling your two single beds and getting a double to cuddle in together.  Papyrus was happy about it—not only did he strongly support the relationship between the two of you, he was also delighted to have Sans and his messy lifestyle quarantined in a new room that was not his own.

 

All of this did wonders in mending Sans’ broken soul.  For the first year or so after meeting you, even as he fell for you, he never would’ve dared show you his soul.  It was hideous.  Marred by depression, death and circumstance.  He worried that somehow, if you saw his soul, you might not love him so much anymore.  You were counting on him to be strong, and stable, and grounded, and blasé about whatever terrible things happened to him.  What would you think if you saw that he wasn’t really any of those things?  Then he wouldn’t be the man you knew.  He wouldn’t be the man you loved.

 

It was when you proved him wrong about that, that his soul fully made the connection with yours.  That wasn’t possible until he completely opened himself up to you.  But when you sat on the bathroom floor, hugging him to your chest as he drunkenly cried his eye sockets out about some nightmare he couldn’t even remember, it broke down the last weak walls he had around you, and your relationship changed forever.  Each of you, individually, changed forever.  His soul changed forever.

 

It wasn’t that the scars went away.  It was all about the way you looked at him, the way you looked at _it_.  Under your gaze, it was the most perfect soul in the world just the way it was.  It was a bit of a domino effect after that.  Knowing how truly and unconditionally you loved him made his soul glow brighter.  When his soul glowed brighter, you noticed, and it made you even happier with him.  Seeing you so happy over his recovery put him in even better condition…  and needless to say, today, that soul was still beating strong, and it hadn’t glowed so healthy and bright since he was a naïve, optimistic little babybones.  With only one difference.

 

He didn’t have his soul cycle as a babybones.

 

Soul cycles, bone moons, monster heat, whatever you preferred to call it, it was all the same thing, though he preferred the term soul cycles, simply because it was the most accurate.  For one thing, it was very much tied to the soul, as it didn’t happen spontaneously upon hitting puberty like he was aware most biological hormone cycles did.  It only began post-pubescently _along with_ the presence of a monster’s soulmate.  But besides that, its purpose was fairly similar to that of a human’s hormonal cycle.  Each month, a monster’s body would go through a cascade of changes culminating in a night of…  how could one put this lightly?

 

It made him want to fill you with his semen until it came out the other end.  (Forgive him for not having a perfect understanding of internal human anatomy.)

 

He was only a few soul cycles in at this point, and still getting used to it.  So far, he’d been lucky enough to always have them on days that you spent at home.  You always knew what was up, because even when he wasn’t fully conscious of it, he spent all day courting you like he was going to have to win you over all over again just to get you into bed with him (which wasn’t at all true, because for the rest of the month, you were always the initiator).  He cuddled you relentlessly, couldn’t spend a minute away from you, made you food, showed you anything he could to impress you.   He got needy and clingy.

 

This was, of course, absolute torture now that you were off at work and he was home alone.  Damn.  All he wanted was to burrow his face in your chest, have your softness and your scent all around him…  God, that was creepy.  He sounded like an animal.  But you did have a scent, and it drove him crazy, especially during his soul cycle when his senses were so heightened.

 

Sweating and silently begging his aching soul to calm down, he lay on the living room couch with an arm around the pillow he took from where you slept in your bed, and his phone in his other hand, texting you surprisingly quickly with just one thumb.

 

 _Sansafras: how’s work?_  
Sansafras: hh  
_Sansafras: listen uh_  
_Sansafras: i need you_

He eagerly awaited your response.  Honestly?  He’d settle for phone sex.  Hell, he’d settle for sexting.  Not even with pictures.  Just sweet little words about how much you loved him and how good you were going to make him feel when you got home.  
  
You never left him waiting long for a response, as disappointed as he was in the one he got.  
  
_Vertebae: Sorry honey, important presentation in a few.  
Vertebae: Are you okay?  You don’t usually quadruple text.  I can come home if it’s an emergency._

Oh, he was so, SO tempted to say that it was.  But that would worry you to death, and you probably wouldn’t be happy with him at all if he tricked you into coming home just to bone.  He could hold it in.  Oh, man, he could hold it in if he really tried.  
  
_Sansfras: nah i’m fine just missing you.  luvya xo_

_Vertebae: Love you!_

He sighed and put down his phone.  That didn’t help at all.  Hell, it only made things worse.  Just seeing those words, that you loved him, made the magic flowing through his bones just a little bit more excited than before.  That was the awesome and terrible thing about these soul cycles.  The shows of love and affection that had become a part of your everyday life with each other was suddenly the kind of thing that could push him over the edge.  You had a personal voicemail message for him, and he was so pent up, on such a total high off his feelings for you, he could honestly whack it to that voicemail message right now.

 

…

 

Hey, he could totally whack it to that voicemail message right now!  He was a genius.  He texted you with both thumbs this time, blepping his tongue out a little as he did.

 

_Sansafras: turn off your phone k.  you know my phone loves to buttdial you and you don’t want ‘skeleton love’ blasting around polite company._

_Vertebae: Lmao too true.  Ok turning it off now.  Should be back on in a couple hours, text you then, and if you need anything you know Papyrus always picks up on the first or second ring._

_Sansafras: lol yeah i do.  buh-bye babe._

And hello, babe’s voicemail!  He was too far gone to even realize how pathetic and desperate he was being right now.  That only registered faintly in the fleeting interim between consecutive orgasms.  He gave you a few minutes, five to be exact, to make sure you’d really turned your phone off.  It would be pretty embarrassing to be caught calling you right after telling you he was okay and saying bye to you.  He wasn’t sure his sex-fogged mind could come up with anything on the spot.

 

Luckily, it didn’t need to.  You must’ve done what you’d said you would, because your phone went straight to voicemail.

 

“Hey babe.  Sorry I can’t come to the phone right now.  But knowing you, I think I can tide you over until I can get back to you.”  
  
Sweetheart, you didn’t know the half of it.  He already had his hand in his shorts, wrapped around his hastily-formed cock.

 

“Let’s see, I’ve got Google up, aaand…”  There were exaggerated typing noises in the background.  “Oookay, quickfire round.  Why are skeletons so calm because nothing gets under their skin.  What does a skeleton order at a restaurant spare ribs.”  
  
Oh, fuck yeah.  You were reciting skeleton puns just for him.  That was such a distinctly _Sans’ datemate_ thing to do.  While his left arm was hard at work vigorously stimulating himself, he pressed his right arm to his sweaty forehead like a sinner in church feeling faint.

 

“What do you call a snake skeleton a rattler.  You should call me more often on the tele-BONE.”

 

He whined, pulling his knees up towards his body a little more.  Your voice dripped with your love for him, _just for him_ , with every syllable.  You looked up bad skeleton puns on Google just for him.  He was your boy.  You loved him so much, you were glad he was so happy, you only ever wanted him to be more and more happy with each passing day—

 

“Uh.  Shit, shit.  There’s a SKELE-TON more puns here but I’m running outta time so ask me about ‘em next time we talk, alright?  Okay LOVE YOU BYE—”  There was a beep signifying it was time to leave a message.  
  
“noooo…”  He whined like a child having his toy taken away from him.  “i was—” He was about to vocalize his disappointment that he’d been just about to cum when he remembered that the beep did, indeed, indicate that he was being recorded now.  Mortified, he hung up.  Then immediately called your number again.  Nothing could stop his thirst for you on his bone moon—heat—soul cycle.  Whatever.  Stars, he needed to cum if he wanted to be able to think straight for five damn seconds.

 

“Hey babe.  Sorry I can’t come to the phone right now.  But knowing you, I think I can tide you over until I can get back to you…”

 

He squeezed his eyes shut, blushed, bit the knuckle of his right index finger, anything to immerse himself in nothing but your voice and the essence of your love for him.  He had to concentrate on that, not on the fact that you weren’t actually here right now, and that he was servicing himself, which he saw nothing sexy about, and never really understood why you saw it any differently.  Love really must be blind for you to be attracted to him, he always thought.

 

“Why are skeletons so calm because nothing gets under their skin.”

 

“oh.  _yes_.  baby—"

 

“What does a skeleton order at a restaurant spare ribs.”

 

“baby, i’m so turned on right now, i can’t h—nnh--!”

  
“What do you call a snake skeleton a rattler.”

  
“fuck!”  He was losing himself in the moment so much, he probably wouldn’t even notice if Papyrus came in the front door.  His eyes were squeezed shut and covered by his arm, his own voice and, more importantly, yours, drowning out any other noise.  He was blind, he was deaf, to everything but you and him.  “oh, yeah, keep going, please!”  
  
“You should call me more often on the tele-BONE.”  
  
That did it.  That sent him over the edge, and it was _fast_ , and it was _intense_.  Sans wasn’t one to shout, his natural voice as quiet and laid-back as it was deep, but these soul-fueled orgasms were something else.  His small body curled in on itself, totally rigid, and he made an absolute mess of his old, beloved basketball shorts.  What was a dribble of cum at “tele” was a hearty spurt by the time you said “BONE,” and was immediately followed by several more.  By the time he was done, and he let his body relax with a soft whimper, his shorts, his femurs, and his pelvis were all thoroughly soaked in his ejaculate.

 

Even in his brief moment of otherwise-clarity, all he could think about was what a waste that was.  It should be inside you, not all over himself.

 

God, he was such a pathetic little bastard.  
  
He waited until the “LOVE YOU” to hang up, but made sure not to let it go to voicemail this time.  Then he got to sit there in the total, oppressive silence of the living room and think about what he’d just done.  It wasn’t like he could ignore it, with the cold wetness slowly settling between his legs, his hand still wrapped around an ecto-boner that just wouldn’t quit, and his phone still on the couch cushion beside his head.  
  
“…  i guess that’s what gets me off.  listening to a recording of vertebae’s voice.  reciting skeleton puns.  off of google.”  He groaned, bringing your pillow over his face with the arm that wasn’t still preoccupied with holding his junk.  “c’monnn, sans.  you’re better than this.  you coulda’ at least had ‘em tell you the puns in real time.  or had ‘em make up the puns themself.  what kinda weak bullshit…”  He chuckled, taking in a deep breath and letting it out.  “ah, what the hell, though.  maybe that’s just true love.”

 

There was no ‘maybe,’ really.  He knew he was in love with you.  He was so in love with you, he forgot what it felt like not to be.  What was that huge space in his soul filled up with before he met you?  Was it occupied by a conglomeration of other things, or was it just…  empty?  Maybe it had to be.  He’d never wanted to do this before.  None of it.  Not the romance and even less, the sex.  Not until you filled that space.  
  
His soulmate…  
  
Maybe that was what that open, waiting space was.  It was his soul waiting to meet yours.  Stars, that was romantic.

 

…  Stars, your pillow still smelled so good…

 

*          *          *

 

“hnnh—ahhh~!  oh please, baby, just one more.  i’m beggin’ you, i know i don’t deserve it, but PLEASE lemme cum just one more time…”

 

Oh, man.  Sans had no concept of how much time had passed.  Could’ve been half an hour, could’ve been five hours.  Actually, it was about one hour, almost exactly.  But he’d been abusing the hell out of that pillow the entire time, and he didn’t feel like he was going to stop.  Not anytime soon, not until the damn thing didn’t even smell like you anymore.  His sex drive was stuck in the ON position and at maximum intensity.  A soul cycle had never been quite so unbearable for him, and the need for sex never hit him quite so early in the day, possibly because, up until this time, he always had you around to cuddle with and take the edge off until the evening.  
  
Not having you there drove him up the wall, and he was becoming more and more sure that he wasn’t going to be fully satisfied until you took care of him, somehow, however you wanted to.  Penetrative sex, handjob, blowjob, even just mutual masturbation could do it, he hardly cared—though sex, for once, sounded the most appealing, simply because at the root of his urges was the desire to cum inside you in a wild attempt to impregnate you, responsible family planning be damned.

 

In short, it wasn’t going to matter how long he masturbated, he was still going to have some fire left in him for when you got home.  So he was all settled in and more than ready for a several-hour-long, nut-busting marathon of an afternoon.  When you texted him to let him know you were driving home, then he would make himself decent so that he could proposition you with what little dignity he could retain with an obvious, glowing boner.  _That_ wasn’t going away.

 

Except that what he thought was a neighbor unlocking their door, was actually you unlocking your door.  
  
“Saaans!” You called out, not immediately spotting him.  “The meeting got out early, you were texting me, acting weird and you called me TWICE, do you want to talk, orrr…”  
  
Aaand now you saw him.  He was not the picture of grace at the moment.  He was on his back, cum-stained shorts around his ankles not even fit to compete with the cum-splattered pillow he had held up to his nose.  His left hand was wrapped firmly around his short, thick little cock, and though frozen in place now, you could only guess at how furiously he’d been stroking himself before you got there.  The blush on his face spoke volumes of it. 

 

“…  My pillow…”  The perfectly-timed dejected tone of your voice would’ve been enough to make him howl with laughter if he wasn’t so terribly embarrassed.  
  
  
“…  b-babe.  go back outside for a minute.  you didn’t see shit.”  
  
  
“…  Oooh~!” You burst into giggles, which only made him blush harder and cover more of his face with the pillow.  For the first time since it all started, he let go of his manhood.  It felt wrong to touch himself, especially in front of you, unless you ordered him to do it.

 

“baaaabe!” he whined at you.  “go out there and gimme a minute to get myself together.  or else i’m gonna throw this pillow at you.”  
  
  
“Mister, you aren’t throwing that pillow anywhere but in the laundry machine!”  You chided him.  “Ohhh-ho-hohh!  Sugar skull, you had me so worried!  I got a voicemail from you and all I heard was you going… ‘noooo.’”  You laughed like there was no friggin’ tomorrow, and he loved your laugh, loved it more than anything in the world.  But right now, he felt like it was mocking him, like it was at his expense, and he wanted to just T-pose, clip through the floor and disappear off the plane of existence that was this life.

 

“shut uuup, you don’t know what a soul cycle is like, especially for an… otherwise asexual monster.”

 

“’ _noooooo_!’”  You mocked him some more, and he was about to tell you to ‘seriously, knock it off,’ but then your hands were at his sides and you were tickling him furiously, and it was _impossible_ to be upset with you doing that.  He burst into laughter to match yours, though his was much more breathless.  Then his laughter trailed into a soft, grateful moan as you began kissing his sternum, from the bottom to the top.  His body relaxed and went limp (well, all of it except one very stubborn part) in a show of surrender to you.

 

“i’m…  i’m so glad you’re home,” he mumbled, feeling each and every kiss like it was directly on his soul.  “because i love you.  and.  because i need you right now.  for, uh.  for this.”

 

“Hmmm…”  You hummed gratefully against his clavicle, stopping just short of kissing it.  “And what is ‘this,’ exactly?”

 

“you knowww.”  
  
  
“Say it.”

 

He could see, in his periphery, that your gorgeous, colorful eyes were staring right up at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact with you as he spilled everything he knew.

 

“these.  these feelings i have for you.  i’ve never had them before.  i don’t think i could have ‘em except for the soul bond.  you started this in me.  it’s so dirty but it’s only because i love you so damn much.  i love you and i don’t know what to do, because i can’t get my mind off of…  off of all this _filthy_ stuff i wanna do together with you.  oh, s-stars…” he sucked in a breath through his teeth, gripped the couch cushions, as he felt your lips on his clavicle.  He could tell you knew that was one of his favorite places to be kissed.

 

“Mmm…”  Contrary to his expectations, you seemed to approve of that.  You climbed on to his lap, sat carelessly—or maybe completely intentionally—on his glowing length, making him yelp at the sudden foreign contact.  You kissed each of his cervical vertebrae, then his cheek, then his teeth.  He cupped your cheek and kissed you back, slowly coming to accept this as you were.  It was what he’d been waiting for all day.  You were finally going to take care of him.  Comfort him.  Satisfy him, completely.  You were going to fuck him six ways from Sunday and leave him in a 24-to-48-hour vegetative state he could never give to himself. 

 

And he. 

 

Was going. 

 

To love it.


	2. Thoroughly Fuck't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I drank like *vine lady voice* TWO SHOTS OF VODKA... halfway into this and I couldn't tell anymroe whether I was blushing because of what I was writing or because of the drink. Anyways lots of people wanted this so here it is :)

Sans didn’t know how, but somehow, you went from sitting on his lap, to grabbing him under his femurs and carrying him like he was light as a pillow, to throwing him down on his back atop your mattress.  His eyes were closed the whole time, as he kissed you, and now that he opened them, the first thing he saw was his own legs stuck out awkwardly to either side in the air and you, his beautiful partner, his _perfect_ partner, standing between them with an impish smile on your face.  
  
He wondered if you could feel his bones trembling with anticipation.  This was _exactly_ the kind of thing he’d been fantasizing about all day.  
  
At some point, you’d ripped the stained shorts from around his ankles and thrown them to the floor, so now he was underneath you on the bed, completely naked from the hips down.  His cock still stood in a strong state of erection, clearly not exhausted in the slightest by his self-pleasure.  Even more prominent than that, however, his soul hummed and glowed effortlessly through the fabric of his shirt.  He always loved you enough for it to make his soul glow, of course, but this point in his soul cycle always threw his magic into overdrive, and that meant excess light and heat, which meant you could easily make out its rounded, surprisingly healthy silhouette.  
  
He was tired of paying attention to his own body—a task he was now entrusting to you.  And he was tired of only being able to imagine yours.  Now here you were, standing over him, and it certainly didn’t help calm his rampant arousal that you were still dressed for work.  For a meeting, even.  You were looking especially neat, prim, and proper.  
  
Oh, stars.  He wouldn’t mind letting you whip him with your belt right about now.  He stiffened and looked down at your hands when he heard the clinking, metallic sound of your belt buckle.  But instead, you just loosened it and cast it aside.  
  
“You know,” you purred lasciviously, rubbing your arousal up against his, “you could’ve just told me.  I might not have been able to come home any earlier.  But I could’ve sent you some pictures.  _Teased_ you.  Made you want it.”  You smirked at him, hooking a hand around one of his ribs like you were interrogating him.  “What were you masturbating to?”  
  
Sans covered his face, but not before you saw his cheeks turn blueberry-tone.  
  
“i’unno.”  
  
“Yes you do.”  
  
“’sembarrassing, just fuck me.”  
  
 Your other hand moved to his neck and wrapped firmly around his vertebrae.  Skeletons can’t be choked, but it was an especially sensitive part of his body, so he shivered at the contact nevertheless.  
  
“You don’t get to have me fuck you until you’re a _good_ boy and tell me the truth.”  You punctuated each word with a single grind of your hips against his member, driving him so up the wall his helpless moaning almost drowned out your words:  “What.  Were.  You.  Masturbating.  To.”  
  
“fuck.  i—nngh.  okay, i…” he panted, putting one skeletal hand over the one you had on his neck.  You gave him a compassionate look and loosened your grip a little, seeming to think he might not like how rough you were being.  But he did.  He _loved_ it.  He pulled your hand to his neck even tighter than before and gave you what you wanted, his voice still hoarse with its excessive use today.  “i can’t get you off my mind.  been touching myself all day just thinking about the times we’ve been together.  the first time we ever did it and we were so clumsy but so in love it didn’t matter.  th—oh stars—” you were pushing him harder down on to the mattress with the hand you still had wrapped around one of his ribs, “the first time i got you off.  sorry that uh, heh, wasn’t the first time we did it.”  
  
“How many times do I have to tell you all is forgiven?”  You leaned down and kissed him, then left your face so close to his that your nose brushed the tip of his nasal ridge.  “Maybe I haven’t made myself clear.  I wasn’t asking about your fantasies.  I was asking what you were doing on your phone…  and if maybe that silly voicemail you left had anything to do with it.”  
  
“…  babe.  i’ve been at this all morning.  of course the voicemail had somethin’ to do with it,” Sans told you, voice soft with embarrassment.  But…  it was a _good_ kind of embarrassment.  It fueled the endless fire in his soul, intensified the ache between his legs.  _Fuck_ , it took so little humiliation by you to turn him on so much.  He took a deep breath and told you all at once, words strung together like jumbled tapestry, “iwasjerkin’ittoyourvoicemailmessageok?”  
  
Your smile only grew marginally, as hilarious as that was.  “Yeah.  That’s what I thought.  You’re adorable.”  There was a swift release of pressure as both of your hands abandoned their grip on his bones and trailed down to lift his shirt.  “But not as adorable as you’re gonna be when you’re ass-fuckin’-naked.”  
  
As always, his usual chubbiness yielded no form as soon as his shirt was lifted.  Instead, his beautiful bone structure was bared to you.  Your eyes raked over them almost as tangibly as your fingers ever did, before your gaze fixed on his soul and didn’t look away.  It reflected blue in your already-colorful-enough eyes.  
  
“Whoa,” you remarked softly.  
  
“heh.  what?  you’ve seen it before.  nothin’ too special.”  
  
“Of course it’s special.”  You leaned down to kiss the ribs encasing it.  “It’s _you_.”  
  
He felt so happy he could cry, and he must have looked it, too, because when you lifted your head and looked at him again, your expression softened and you emphasized, “I mean it.”  
  
“i love you.”  In his soul-cycle-fogged mind, that was always of the highest priority.  
  
“I love you, too.”  
  
The next series of events happened in a flash, so sudden and so jarring his pleasured mind could hardly process it.  You let go of him, gave him a little room to breathe.  Took his left hand in yours.  Kissed the back of it.  Guided it down between his legs.  Made him close his fingers around his own member.  
  
“wh…  what’s happening.”  
  
“I’m gonna strip for you nice and slow.  And if you haven’t cum by the time I’m naked, I’m gonna flip you over on your hands and knees and pump _two_ out of you myself.  And we wouldn’t want that, would we?”  
  
Sans was stunned.  “…  i dunno how i’m s’posed to answer that,” he responded quietly.  Because honestly, he loved the thought of being pinned under your naked body and jerked off to two mind-blowing climaxes in a row.  
  
“We _wouldn’t_ want that,” you clarified, hands smoothly working at the top button of your dress shirt.  “Because that’s one less load of cum for you to fill me up with.”  
  
“oh, stars…” he whispered, and either your words convinced him or simply turned him on so much he couldn’t help himself, because he scooted into a comfortable position, legs spread to give you a great view of his ministrations, and resumed what he’d been doing earlier.  His stroking quickly fell into a rhythmic, hypnotized pattern, his eyes and his mind too focused on you to pay much attention to what he was doing to himself.  
  
Your chest was revealed to him first.  Fuck, he loved your chest.  He loved the way it rose and fell with your breaths.  He loved your rosy nipples and the way you got so disproportionally excited just from having something so small touched and pinched and played with.  He loved that it was where your heart was, and he could rest his head there for hours, immerse himself in your gentle, caring presence and listen to that steady beating as the weight of all his troubles slipped effortlessly from his shoulders.  
  
He loved your belly button.  It was just such a silly feature of human anatomy.  It always made him laugh, especially when he would try to stick his finger in it and you would try to slap his hand away.  
  
Mmm.  He was utterly transfixed as you slid your shirt off over your arms, and he got to watch your muscles shift under your skin.  You weren’t extremely muscular or anything, but you were human, and you were strong.  He could feel it every time you picked him up, every time you held him in your arms at all, every time you gripped some part of him in your fist.  His eyes followed your shirt down your arms all the way to the floor, then refocused on you as you moved on to the zipper of your pants.  
  
“C’mon, Sansy,” you encouraged him in a teasing coo.  “You don’t have much longer.  Show me how much you missed me.”  
  
He didn’t _need_ much longer.  But he started to jerk himself off harder anyways, restraining himself only by raising his right hand to his mouth and biting down on the knuckle of his index finger.  If he didn’t, he’d start moaning like an absolute whore.  
  
And while he didn’t usually have a problem with that while the two of you made love, that was because you were usually fucking him and moaning right along with him.  He got shy when he was going solo under your intense gaze.  
  
“Awwwh.  Don’t be shy, Sansy!” you called him out on it.  Your fingers hooked delicately under the waist of your pants and dragged them down to mid-thigh, revealing bright teal undies with burgers printed on them.  
  
Oh, stars, that was the sexiest thing in the world to him.  His cock ached with need, even with the earnest treatment it was getting from his own hand.  He was honest-to-god about to shoot his load over seeing you wearing underwear that he _knew_ you bought with him in mind.  Seeing the undeniable evidence of your own arousal through them.  He whined softly around the finger he had jammed between his teeth.  
  
“You want this, don’t you?”  Your rubbed your hands from your hips downwards, graceful fingers curving to border your waiting genitals.  
  
“yyyeee _eeessss_!”  His voice was as strained and tense as his body.  He couldn’t take it anymore.  He groaned in pleasure, cock swelling visibly in his hand, then utter, desperate, blissful relief as he released several powerful spurts of cum.  He hunched over as he came, causing the first few to decorate his ribs with velvety, just-slightly-pale-blue substance, and the last few weaker ones trickled down over his hand.  Everything slowed at once in his temporary, post-orgasmic bliss.  His stroking, his vocalizing, his breathing.  His body slumped a bit, and he took his finger from his mouth to support his weight on the mattress with his hand.  
  
“Damn,” you purred to him under your breath.  Your pants were still only halfway down your legs.  “That was _hot_.  Watching you cum for me like that.  Good boy.”  
  
“th-thanks.”  He stared down at the mess he made and internally cringed at his own reply.  He genuinely enjoyed the dynamic between the two of you in bed, but you were always so damn smooth, and he was always so damn awkward.  Why did he have to be like that?  The submissive one could be cool and suave too, right?  
  
But as you moved over him like that, wearing nothing but those underwear and that hungry look in your eyes, he forgot anything but the dizzying fact that he was the only one you needed.  Just like you were the only one he wanted.  
  
You completed each other in every facet of your life together.  Sexuality was no exception.  
  
“That cute little dick ready for more?” you asked huskily.  He didn’t respond right away, eyes and attention drawn to your hand sliding gracefully under the waistband at your hip and beginning to pull your underwear down.  Words became hard to form as he took in the sight of your hip bones and the way your flesh curved so beautifully over them.  
  
And of course he couldn’t help but stare at your genitals once they were visible.  Your personal little pleasure center, accessible to only one man in the world right now, and it was him.  His soul hummed a little louder, betraying his excitement, when he watched you pour a generous amount of lube over your fingers and use them to get your hole wet for him.  
  
“i, uh… i dunno,” he told you, more because he forgot the question than because he was still in his extremely short refractory period.  
  
“Mmm.  Then you know the safeword if you need it.”  
  
But he _was_ still in his extremely short refractory period.  That became evident when, with your underwear out of the way and the both of you finally, mutually, entirely naked, you positioned him at your entrance and dropped your weight on to him, all at once.  He hilted in you with a startled gasp, that torturously tickling, overstimulated feeling causing him to instinctively push your hips up a little, to pull himself out of you.  
  
But he didn’t say the safeword.  
  
So you started to fuck him. _Hard_.  
  
You didn’t know squealing was a thing that Sans’ vocal chords were built to do, but by god, they did it when you started to ride his overstimulated cock like that.  You were probably the only person in the world who would be able to recognize his voice when it shot up that high.  He squealed, he swore under his breath, and with all other options exhausted (except telling you to stop, which was the _last_ thing he wanted to do right now), he just started to laugh.  Deep, and breathy, and excited, and disbelieving.  Like even after all this time together with you, he could still hardly believe you wanted him so badly you couldn’t even wait for him to recover from his last orgasm.  He let his body ragdoll on the bed, not wanting to have to do a thing but focus on you and what you were making him feel.  
  
You were taking him.  Making him yours.  Using his magic-fueled body to get yourself off.  
  
Fuck yeah, he liked that.  
  
He'd started out with his arms thrown carelessly over his head, like he was on a rollercoaster, or just being the pillow prince he usually was.  But as the delicious torture of being driven into you again and again turned to numbness, and then slowly back to pleasure, he reached down and gently put his hands over the ones you had so firmly gripping his hips.  
  
“Therrre you go,” you sang to him, your voice so soft and encouraging, even as you absolutely _plowed_ him.  “That’s it.  Just had to give it some time, huh?”  You chuckled, confident and smug, a noise he could never get tired of.  “You feel good, don’t you, Sansy?”  
  
“mmhmm!” His voice came out as desperate as his heaving breaths.  You weren’t letting up, and he didn’t want you to.  He knew he should be weary, but he felt like he could just lay here and let you fuck him for a _week_.  “oh, _fuck_!”  
  
“Oh _stars_ ,” you corrected him with an especially hard thrust of your hips, but he continued anyways.  
  
“i’ve wanted this all day.  this is all i’ve wanted.  all i’ve needed.  please…”  
  
He put his arms up over your shoulders, pulled you in closer, and whispered one of your favorite words:  
  
“harder.”  
  
Well.  Who were you to refuse him that?  
  
You braced yourself on the bed and quickened your pace, even as your vigor was beginning to make you pant for air.  Your expression was twisted in pleasure and concentration.  You were putting so much into this.  Into making him feel good.  
  
Mmm.  How could he be ungrateful?  He had to cum for you again.  
  
This one came easier than the last, contrary to the usual trend of the later the consecutive orgasm, the harder it is to squeeze it out.  Usually, he had plenty of false starts before he actually climaxed, plenty of oh-stars-it’s-about-to-happen moments that waned again.  
  
But this time, the very first one came to fruition.  
  
His arms tightened and hugged you, forcing you to collapse down on top of him as his hips bucked wildly.  It came on so suddenly and happened so fast, you didn’t even realize he’d had a full-on orgasm until you felt his cum filling your hole and dripping back down his member with each sloppy thrust.  The skin around your entrance became sticky with the substance.  
  
“s-sorry,” he mumbled pathetically.  
  
“Why?”  You slowed, but didn’t stop, that beautiful, confident smirk still on your lips.  “That’s not all you’ve got, is it, baby boy?”  
  
He shuddered, arousal clashing with overstimulation at the mention of one of his favorite bedroom nicknames for him.  
  
“n-no.  hell no.  keep goin’.”  
  
He happily welcomed the return of your previous, enthusiastic thrusting.  But his cock was being a little more stubborn this time.  He didn’t stay overstimulated for too long, but he plateaued at the point of feeling nothing but basic touch for awhile.  
  
Still.  That didn’t mean that he wasn’t enjoying the sex.  It meant he got a little while to focus on you.  You were so gorgeous when the only thing on your mind was fucking him.  You were always so beautiful when you moved with such aggression and vigor.  In a sexual sense, sure, but in an aesthetic and an emotional sense as well.  He loved you so much.  Loved your passion, your energy, your dominance.  He wanted nothing more than to put the rest of his life in your hands.  He would have been more than happy to let you use him as your little fucktoy until you reached your own sexual satisfaction.  
  
But you noticed he was having a hard time getting back into it.  So you gave him a break.  
  
Well, not really.  You gave his _penis_ a break.  
  
Cupping his cheek in your hand, you told him, “Your face is really cute.  But I think I’m gonna ride it for awhile.”  
  
And he consented to that with a small, wide-eyed nod.  
  
It was fair enough.  He needed a little time to recover down there, physiologically.  But you still deserved your own pleasure.  
  
He was always especially good at this.  This certainly wasn’t the first time you’d done it—he gladly let you fuck his face whenever you wanted.  He was especially good at it, because he never put up a fuss and skeleton monsters didn’t need to breathe.  
  
For some reason, he was even more shy about his ecto-tongue than he was about his ecto-cock, so he never really let you see it.  He only ever let you feel it, like he was doing now.  Moving his head along with the gentle thrusts of your hips, licking up and down your most sensitive zone.  It felt even better than any human tongue ever could.  Warm, wide, thick, wet, and smooth.  
  
He didn’t even moan, as much as he enjoyed it.  When he was giving you oral, it was all about you.  When his hands grabbed on to your ass, it wasn’t for the physical sensation of doing so.  It was to pull you closer, drive his tongue deeper into your sensitive center.  
  
He didn’t stop until you screamed the fact that you were cumming, and rode his face to the point of your own completion.  
  
Now both of you were panting, blushing, recovering.  Post-orgasmic.  But not done.  The both of you could feel it in the air that you weren’t done _just yet_.  
  
His cock still stood stiff, protruding proudly from his pelvis.  
  
And as relieved and exhausted as you were when you scooted your hips back away from his face and allowed him to look up at you again, you still had that hungry look in your eyes.  
  
“…  one more in a minute?” he breathed, savoring the smell of your sweat and arousal on his face.  
  
“One more in a minute.”  
  
For the first time that entire night, things truly slowed on both sides.  You took a moment to be tender with each other.  He pulled you on top of him to cuddle.  You flopped on your side, and took him with you so that you were both lying in such a fashion, facing each other.  
  
Smiling.  
  
Happy.  
  
“You’re a horny little fucker when you’re having these soul cycles, you know that?”  
  
“that’s not my fault, now is it?”  
  
You both laughed softly, tiredly, and nuzzled your sweaty foreheads together.  
  
“And here I was thinking I was going to head right back to work as soon as I checked on you.”  
  
“heheheh.  i’d like to see ya try.”  
  
“Mmm.  I’d probably end up touching myself under my desk thinking about you.”  
  
“mmm.”  He adopted an exaggerated, cheesy villain voice.  “we’re not so different, you and i.”  
  
“Goofball.”  A quiet, tender moment having passed, you slowly rolled him back over on to his back.  As always, he let you maneuver him however you wanted.  “…  You ready?”  
  
He nodded eagerly.  
  
“i’m ready.”  
  
Just one more.  
  
You were both too exhausted to work up to the pace you’d been going at before.  Your motions were smoother this time.  More languid.  But no less stimulating.  You rested your hands on his ribcage and pushed him down into the mattress that way this time.  
  
And you moved so beautifully.  Just as before, Sans couldn’t take his eyes off you.  All he could do was lie there and let you ride him, totally helpless to your ministrations.  
  
The rolling of your hips.  
  
The way you swept your hair out of your face.  
  
The harmony your voices formed as you panted so heavily together.  
  
You needed each other.  Absolutely, desperately needed each other.  To you two, that was what it meant to be in love.  It meant feeling things—things like this, among many others—that you couldn’t feel by yourself or with anyone else.  
  
And making sure each other felt the same.  
  
His soul flared.  It felt like every particle in his body flared.  Oh, stars, he was about to cum again and it was going to be so _good_.  Even better than everything else that night.  Better than all the times he’d made himself cum thinking about you, better than making himself cum looking at you, even better than cumming inside you earlier.  
  
He loved you.  He loved you, he loved you, he loved you.  Helplessly, passionately, deliriously.  
  
And it was entirely mutual.  
  
His last climax was one so powerful he squeezed his eyes shut and forgot to breathe.  So powerful he didn’t believe that there was any way it didn’t exhaust the rest of the magic in his body.  He _screamed_.  Anybody else would think that he was getting murdered or something if he screamed like that, but just for you, he screamed in pleasure.  
  
And you screamed, too.  
  
You both knew that this was your last one for the night, and by god, your bodies were making it count.  You came at the same time, your body squeezing rhythmically around him, and his member pumping you full with his fluid for the second time that night.  Neither of you stopped vocalizing your pleasure until the moment had long passed, and you were left hunched over him, catching your breath as his magic, finally spent and completely satisfied, dissipated back into the rest of his body.  
  
You collapsed on his bare, appendage-less bones and hugged him close, and he hugged you back.  
  
“that…” he breathed, seeming to think for a moment before continuing, “i think that was the best we’ve ever had.”  
  
“Yeah.  For sure.”  You swallowed, your throat dry after so much exertion.  “…  What do you think did it?  The slow buildup?”  
  
“mmm.  maybe.  The fancy clothes you had on?”  
  
“Hehe.  The fact that I let you drag me away from work just to make passionate love to you?”  
  
“first time you grabbed my throat like that.  that was pretty hot.”  
  
You smiled at each other for a moment.  
  
“…  but seriously though, i just think it’s ‘cause i love you more every day, and so every day, i love you more than i’ve ever loved ya before in my life.”  
  
“You know what?  Yeah.”  You kissed his forehead, even though it was sweaty.  “That sounds right to me.”


End file.
